


The Crooked Man X Fem-Reader - Purpose

by writeyouin



Category: Fables: The Wolf Among Us (Video Game), telltale - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Harassment, Reader-Insert, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: A tumblr commission: A female Reader Fable who is loyal to the Crooked Man down to the bone! She knows what he is doing is wrong but he also gave her life a meaning.
Relationships: The Crooked Man/Reader, The Crooked Man/You
Kudos: 2





	The Crooked Man X Fem-Reader - Purpose

You clung tightly to your purse which was the only thing you had left in the world; all it contained now was one lonely five-dollar bill and a pocket-sized painting of your cottage in the homelands. You had never been one of the main fables that the Mundy’s talked about, only one of many scullery maids in Prince Charming’s palace; nobody of great importance.

Ever since you had come to the Mundy realm, it had been one problem after another, going week to week trying to scrape enough money together just to survive. Now, with no money and no job prospects from either Fabletown or the surrounding Mundy area, you were forced to go to the Business Office for help. If Old King Cole was still around, you doubted it would be a problem; he was a merry old soul after all. However, the person you had to convince was Ichabod Crane, and you had heard that he didn’t have much in the way of generosity. Although it was late and you were the last person awaiting a meeting with Mr Crane, you hoped it wouldn’t affect his judgement, and that he might be moved to help you.

Finally, Crane himself opened the door but it wasn’t to see you, it was to kick both Snow White and Bufkin out.

“TAKE THAT WRETCHED CREATURE AND KEEP IT AWAY FROM THE BUSINESS OFFICE MISS SNOW! I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY MORE OF ITS DISRUPTIVE BEHAVIOUR.”

Snow looked like she was about to argue, but had evidently had enough that day, “Come on Bufkin, let’s leave the Deputy Mayor alone; it’s closing time anyway.”

“Yes, Miss White,” Bufkin agreed, not caring that Crane had kicked him out. The advantage of being a flying monkey was that he could always get back into the Business Office from the outside window whenever he wanted to, and now he could mooch a drink off someone before returning.

“AND YOU-” Crane pointed an accusing finger at you, seeming to lose some of his bluster afterwards, “Make it _quick_.”

“Yes, Sir,” You squeaked, stepping into the office and closing the door behind you.

Crane walked to his desk, closely followed by you as you explained your plight. At the sound of your desperation, he started paying closer attention.

“So you need money,” Crane concluded.

“Yes, Sir, but a loan would be fine, I’ll pay it back as soon as I find work.”

“That’s redundant. If you are unable to find work, then I’ll have wasted an investment. It would be better if I simply gave you a job myself.”

“That’d be wonderful, Sir. I used to be a scullery maid so I can clean and-”

Crane waved your explanations away, “I am not in need of a maid. I have another job in mind for you.”

“Anything, Mr Crane. I’ll do anything.”

Crane closed the gap between the two of you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in a way that only made you feel vulnerable and afraid. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You tensed up, clenching your teeth, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as Crane trailed his hand down your arm. Under his touch, you froze, feeling cheap and abused.

“I happen to need someone for various roleplays,” Crane told you. “And since you’re willing to do anything-”

Coming to your senses, you pushed Crane away from you, running out of the office as fast as you could with tears in your eyes; Crane’s screamed insults following you out of the room.

In the dark of the night, you kept running, not daring to stop lest your shame catch up to you. Without Crane’s money, you had nothing, not even enough to rent somewhere cheap for the night. Once you got to the park, you finally stopped running, walking along the bridge so you could look down at the glassy water that reflected you and your many failings.

Catching your breath, silent tears slid down your cheeks. What was the point of living in a world crushed in the fist of capitalism? With all that you had in the tiny handbag, you may as well resign yourself to starving to death, if the cold didn’t take you first. It would probably be better if you drowned yourself now. Unlike Mundy lakes, the one in Fabletown was deceptively deep, and would serve as a half-decent final resting place. Mechanically, you inched your leg over the side of the little wooden bridge, so you were straddling the handrail.

“Begging your pardon Miss, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a cockney voice said from behind you.

You turned to find Tiny Tim watching you sympathetically.

“Tim,” You breathed, recognising him instantly; it was hard not to when he was such a major character.

“Aye, thanks for leaving off the tiny. I hate it when people say that. You wanna come with me? I have someone interested in employing you.”

You looked towards the glassy water once again, fear now clutching your heart as you scrambled to get away from it, back onto the safe side of the bridge. Tiny Tim put an arm around you to steady you. “Do you want my coat, Miss? You’re freezing.”

You nodded jerkily, stuck with the thought that you had been close to throwing your life away. Tiny Tim removed his coat, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Alright then, you coming? I’m s’posed to take you to the boss.”

“Who is it?”

“Ah…Best he explains it, he’s had a bit o’ bad press lately, so his name does no good.”

You started thinking of all the villains you knew of. Bluebeard, the Tweedles, the Jersey Devil; you couldn’t picture Tiny Tim working for any of them.

“I promise he’s good. He gives people like you and me jobs. Who else’d hire me as a bodyguard?”

“…Alright, I’ll join you.”

With an amiable smile, Tiny Tim led you towards an out of place door on the bark of a tree, deep within the park. From the door, he led you down a rich hallway till you were in front of two solid-oak doors.

When he opened them, you found a man like no other. He was an older gentleman with a sagging left eye, as if he’d had a stroke. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once, and he held a cane, to keep up straight.

Instantly, your breath left your body in a state of panic, for who did not know of the Crooked Man? He was whispered to have taken part in every recent major crime in an attempt to control Fabletown, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do; suddenly, Ichabod Crane was starting to look like a real martyr.

“Miss (L/N), Sir,” Tiny Tim announced, before leaving you alone with the Crooked Man.

“Ah, yes, Miss (L/N), please, take a seat,” The Crooked Man gestured to the sofa opposite him in the small office.

“Why am I here?” You asked in a small voice, sitting down.

“Why? Because I heard that you were looking for employment, and I saw the manner in which Crane was planning to abuse you.”

“How? That only just happened…”

“Ah, it is of no real concern,” The Crooked Man answered, thinking of Bloody Mary and all she managed to see through her mirrors. “Tea? Coffee perhaps?”

“No, thank you.”

“Ah, I see you have manners. They’re so often overlooked nowadays, don’t you think? Alright, down to business,” He sat down in the armchair and scratched his chin. “I have heard that you are in need of employment, and it so happens that I’m looking for a personal chef, as well as a house maid. You will be free to come and go as you like, and you will be handsomely compensated for your work. The only thing I would ask is for your discretion. You see, my name has certain connotations, as I’m sure you are well aware of.”

A small part of you wanted to ask whether you would be executed if you didn’t take the job, but another larger part of you didn’t seem to care. You had met Tiny Tim time and time again, and he seemed to be a reasonably good judge of character. Perhaps he was right; it wasn’t every day you got offered a job that you were suited to for a good wage.

“It will be a pleasure to work for you, Sir,” You inclined your head politely.

* * *

After three months of working for the Crooked Man, you had never been happier. The work was good and it paid more than you deserved. You found yourself looking forward to taking his meals to him, enjoying every interaction with him. He was always polite and respectful, in a way that nobody else had ever been before, and whenever you brought the tea tray to his meetings, he made sure his goons always treated you with the upmost respect. Once, Tweedle-Dee had dared to lay a hand on you, and he was immediately punished. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it had warned the others off you for good.

While you knew that the Crooked Man’s business dealings were morally wrong, you found that you didn’t care. He had brought you back from the brink of depression, and for that, you would forever be loyal to him.

“Breakfast, Sir,” You announced yourself into the office where he spent most of his time.

“Hm,” He replied, reading through some paperwork. He was unusually quiet as he scanned the script in front of him.

“Everything alright, Sir?”

He put the papers down with a sigh, managing a smile for the first time that morning. “Nothing that cannot be fixed. Just a dip in some stocks of mine that I find rather disappointing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It will all be fine, my dear,” He said with a grin.

Your breath hitched in your throat; he’d never called you anything but your name before. Was it possible that he held the same feelings for you that you harboured for him? Or was it merely a platonic nickname, now that you had been working for him a while.

“A penny for your thoughts, (Y/N)?” He asked, noting your distress.

As coolly as you could, you approached him with his morning tea. Upon delivering it to his desk, you pecked his cheek. It was a move that could possibly lose you your job, but you decided to risk it anyway. If the Crooked Man had any thoughts, he kept them well guarded as you silently left the room, your heart pounding. Once the door was shut, the Crooked Man pressed a hand to where your lips had been and took a deep breath. He would have to find a way to repay the gesture ten-fold; you had very quickly become more to him than just another employee.


End file.
